


slipping through my fingers all the time

by mitch23k



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-15 15:35:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15416106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitch23k/pseuds/mitch23k
Summary: Bruce Wayne realizes, one by one, that his kids have grown up.





	1. what happened to the wonderful adventures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And yes, once Robin, having been doused in fear toxin, had clung to Batman like a lifeline and cried “Dad,” rather than the usual, casual “B,” but it was hardly a crime to make such a mistake with Crane’s toxin running through the child’s veins. Neither of them ever brought it up again. Bruce wasn’t entirely sure Dick would even remember it if he did mention it. 
> 
> Bruce hadn’t forgotten. He didn’t think he could ever forget the way his heart had thudded at the word, the way he looked into his partner’s eyes and felt such an overpowering desire to crush him in a hug and chase all his fears away that it almost hurt.

Bruce had been staring at the phone on the desk for precisely twenty six minutes and eight seconds. He should call Dick. Alfred would appreciate that, but more importantly, Bruce w _anted_ to call him. Wanted to explain.

Really, he should have figured that moment was coming. He was a detective, after all, supposedly the world’s greatest. And yet, Batman couldn’t predict the (rather obvious, in hindsight) fact that Dick Grayson would no longer want anything to do with him after he was fired from being Robin.

In fact, when Dick had thrown his set of spare keys at Bruce’s face, spitting that he was done, once and for all, Bruce had been left with a gaping mouth, long after the door was slammed in his face.

“Huh,” he had said after a few moments of shocked silence. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d after said ‘huh’ before in his life.

To be fair to himself, even the calm anchorage that Alfred always offered was momentarily shattered once he had been told of the incident. He had gone to the garden for some air, returned, and told Bruce that he was a fool for firing Dick.

 _He’s probably right,_ Bruce thought to himself, brooding on a gargoyle, as was his custom. It was foolish, after all, to presume Bruce owned the ‘Robin’ mantle: it was a concept of Dick’s own invention, and the nickname was from Mary Grayson. Not one inch of it belonged to Batman.

And anyway, Dick would continue to be a Titan. That was where he had moved once he had left, Barbara had tentatively reported. Firing him wouldn’t keep him out of danger, which had been the goal. On the plus side, just about anywhere in the world was safer than Gotham, but the Titans were known to be a troublesome group. Bruce had never liked them: most were metas, and he had an inkling that Wally was a bad influence.

Clark, after being informed of this theory some time ago at a League meeting, had laughed and declared that Batman was being “such a _dad.”_

“Hn,” Batman had replied, and walked away.

He wasn’t being a dad. He was being a good mentor. Dick had made it pretty clear early on that John Grayson was not replaceable, and Bruce, in response, had kept himself from bringing up adoption at any point in the eleven years he had known his ward. He wasn’t Dick father. And yes, once Robin, having been doused in fear toxin, had clung to Batman like a lifeline and cried _“Dad,”_ rather than the usual, casual _“B,”_ but it was hardly a crime to make such a mistake with Crane’s toxin running through the child’s veins. Neither of them ever brought it up again. Bruce wasn’t entirely sure Dick would even remember it if he did mention it.

Bruce hadn’t forgotten. He didn’t think he could ever forget the way his heart had thudded at the word, the way he looked into his partner’s eyes and felt such an overpowering desire to crush him in a hug and chase all his fears away that it almost hurt.

That had been six years ago. Bruce had still never brought up adoption. Because he was a damn fool.

It was far too late for that now. The fight and the falling out had been heinous, both he and Dick saying things they had been thinking for years but never aired out until then. Bruce felt particularly guilty about slinging something about being a total disappointment to the kid, but at the time, it seemed like the only way to make Dick understand that Bruce was _right,_ he always was, and that Dick needed to take another look at his priorities.

“Oh yeah, _old man,_ I’m sure you totally understand the modern crime scene,” Dick had retorted, but there was no bite in his voice. He sounded sad.

After a few hours, Batman had sighed and shot his line. It was his first solo patrol in awhile and he was...well, he wouldn’t say _lonely,_ but going back to the cave early had never seemed so enticing as it did then, one vigilante in such a big city. Batgirl wouldn’t be out either - it was her first day of college classes, so Bruce had given a little time off to adjust.

He wondered how long it would be until _she_ left him too.

The phone on the table buzzed, and, eagerly, Bruce grappled for it. Unfortunately, the caller ID read _Oliver Queen_ , so he just set it back down and ignored the call.

He should call Dick.

Deep within, a very stubborn voice said _he should call you, he left,_ and Bruce promptly ignored that voice and picked up the phone.

He hit the number three button and waited.

Dick didn’t pick up, but Bruce knew how teenagers could be. He called thrice more before the call was accepted.

“Hello?” someone who was decidedly _not_ Dick Grayson said.

Bruce wrinkled his nose upon recognizing the voice. “Kid Flash.”

“Oh shit. Hi, uh, Mr. Wayne. Sorry, your name in Grayson’s phone is ‘D-”

 _“Who is it?”_ someone asked in the background. There were all sorts of conversation going on around Wally, apparently, but Bruce was still able to identify the muffled, quiet voice as Roy Harper.

“Uh, one sec - _hey,_ grab Dick and tell him-”

 _“Grab dick?”_ Roy laughed. It had escaped Bruce’s notice until then that Roy Harper was very clearly drunk, and Wally, even with his extreme metabolism, sounded odd enough to be tentatively labeled as tipsy.

The Titans, evidently, were having some sort of party. Bruce knew all of their birthdays - not out of any fondness, no matter what Diana said, but rather that as a child Dick had forever been begging to have a sleepover in the Cave for one of his friends, and Bruce had forever been declining. None of them were celebrating a birthday.

 _It’s an emancipation party,_ a small, paranoid part of Bruce said. _They’re happy Dick is finally free of your melodrama._

“Heh, _butnoseriouslydude_ , it’s _Batman,”_ Wally whispered very loudly.

_“Oh shit. Hey, Dick!”_

_“Yeah dude?”_

_“Batman’s on the phone.”_

Dick laughed, making Bruce’s heart ache a bit, and yelled, _“Fuck Batman!:_

 _He’s drunk,_ half of him reasoned logically, while the other half was too shocked to think anything at all. It had been a shocking day.

Someone, probably Starfire, repeated the mantra with a laugh. Wally seemed to have exhaled a half-laugh, but stopped himself, probably because he was still on the phone.

“Uh, he’s not available,” Wally began, but Bruce hung up before he could continue with an outrageous lie to cover his friend’s tracks.

 _What had happened_ , he wondered idly while sitting in the silence usually filled by a rambunctious teenager, _to the little circus boy who had sat next to him at the table after a long night of patrol, and tucked his face into Bruce’s arm, and whined that he wanted to go to sleep? What happened to the kid who came home from school bemoaning the fact that he couldn’t stay home and slide down bannisters all day? What happened to the kid who was responsible for roughly 90% of Bruce’s smiles in the last decade?_

He grew up, Bruce supposed. It was only natural. Fathers and sons always quarreled at they aged. He and Thomas probably would have fought, if…

Nonetheless, Bruce would like that kid back, just for a few minutes, long enough to ask him if he’d do Bruce the honor of becoming his son.

But of course, that was nonsense. Dick Grayson was a grown man now, and he had no need of a father. He was going out on his own.  And Bruce, with all his anger and hurt, couldn’t help but feel a spot of pride. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes the title of the whole thing and each chapter is from an abba song, shut up. it's their second best one after One Of us
> 
> anyway go watch mamma mia 2 it's so good


	2. everytime i think im close to knowing (she keeps on growing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was already fifteen when she’d arrived in Bruce Wayne’s life, and though her speech patterns resembled a child’s, her intelligence and fighting prowess made her seem practically a adult in Bruce’s eyes.

Cassandra was different. She always was. In every way.

She was already fifteen when she’d arrived in Bruce Wayne’s life, and though her speech patterns resembled a child’s, her intelligence and fighting prowess made her seem practically a adult in Bruce’s eyes. He’d certainly trained her like a grown woman. She was perfect. She beat Bruce in hand-to-hand bare first every time they sparred, and the only time he ever beat her in any fighting situation was when he was using the utility belt. 

Perfect, in every way.

And yet, he hadn’t made her Batman.

And to be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure why.

When he was recording his future instructions for each of his allies, he had made Dick’s first, with careful protocols listed for each situation that he, the new Batman, may encounter, and advice for suddenly being a chair of the League. Directly afterwards he had made Cassandra’s, detailing how she must give Batgirl over to Stephanie and leave Gotham for some time so as to allow her successor to develop by herself, and to come back early only if Dick absolutely needed her. 

He hadn’t really considered either of their feelings in that matter. When he was younger, Dick had wanted very badly to take over Bruce’s job one day, but it had become abundantly clear as time went on that Dick wished to reinvent himself without the shadow of the bat hanging over him. 

Cassandra, likewise, had wanted to take over, but, unlike her older brother, she’d never changed her mind. In fact, Barbara had reported, most of her drive when it came to learning to read came from the knowledge that Batman  _ had  _ to know how to read clues. She seen the symbol as most people saw Superman’s El emblem: something of  _ hope _ . 

They hadn’t discussed that. Bruce had been back, thanks for Tim, for roughly three months now, and his exchanges with his daughter were stunted and short. Yes, they had always been short, but even without words Cassandra was the only person in the world who understood him in totality. He never felt lacking after a visit with Cass. 

But now he was. Lacking, very badly. 

It was after patrol, around three a.m. on a Tuesday night when he finally tried to rectify the situation. 

Dick was in Bludhaven, Tim was spending the night at the tower with his team, Stephanie was with her mother, and Damian had been forced to stay home, because it was a school night. Just him and Black Bat, fighting the cowardly and superstitious lot all night. They hadn’t spoken a word, not a single word, except the one time Cassandra had grunted “behind you,” to him as a crook came at him. Batman had elbowed him in the face and continued without thanking her. 

“Good job tonight, Cassie,” he said, the nickname balancing awkwardly on his tongue. No one ever called her Cassie except Barbara, and that was only if one of them was hurt. “You did an excellent job.”

“A perfect job,” she corrected with a small, smug smile as she pulled her cowl off. She had always been cocky, just like her brothers, which had always seemed endearing on her. 

Bruce gave her a rare, small smile and nodded. “Right. Perfect as usual.”

She made to walk away, up the stairs to bed, and Bruce frowned. He had assumed they were having a “moment”, as Tim would call it. Without considering the course of events that could follow, Bruce called, “Wait, Cass.”

Obediently, she turned and looked at him. 

_ Now what?  _ A voice that sounded oddly like Stephanie said in his head.  _ Come up with something, idiot, fix this! _

“Y-You did well, tonight,” he said, and nearly slapped himself. They had  _ literally  _ just talked about that. “I-”

“Nervous.”

“Hm?”

“You,” Cass added. “You are nervous.”

Right. “I want to speak with you.”

“You think I am...upset. At you.”

“ _ With _ me, not at,” Bruce corrected automatically, feeling like the world’s biggest ass. “I mean- well, are you?”

Cassandra looked him up and down, a full once-over. “Yes.”  
That was like a punch in Bruce’s stomach, even with him already figuring she was mad. “I’m sorry.”

His daughter tilted her head, and he couldn’t tell if she was messing with him when she said, “Why?”, trying to make him suffer and say it. 

“I took away Batgirl.”

“Yes. Did.” Cassandra spoke with no emotion, but Bruce knew. He knew that being Batgirl had meant the world to her. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he admitted quietly, feeling like a child.

“For Stephanie,” Cassandra said dismissively. There was a hint of truthfulness to her chalence - he knew how much her girlfriend meant to Cass, and she would die for her, but  _ this,  _ having her name taken from her was...not a choice made by  _ her _ . 

“Yes. But still, I know that you were - were very much devoted to being Oracle’s successor,” Bruce said, words stilted. He didn’t think he’d ever been in a more awkward and painful conversation - save for any time he spoke to Jason. Bruce had problems talking in an easy going manner with strangers, let alone apologizing to a family member. “I know you meant a great deal to Babs, and her to you. And...and most of all, I know I’ve offended you.”

Cassandra’s dark eyes glinted in the shadows of the cave. “ _ Yes. _ ”

“I didn’t make you Batman,” he said, finally. A certain weight was lifted off his shoulders. “I know you had been training for it. I know you wanted it, were obsessed with taking over for me. I know Dick didn’t want it as much as you did. And I still didn’t give it to you.”

Slowly, Cassandra moved closer to him, until she was only inches away. She reached her arm out and grabbed his wrist. It was a light hold. She wasn’t trying to harm him. It seemed, to Bruce, more like something to steady her. 

“I don’t know why,” Bruce continued, and Cassandra’s frown deepened. She had known that, obviously, she could read it off him like a book, but she was still saddened by it. “I don’t. My relationship with Dick has always been very critical to me over the years. He was my first child. I think I was somewhat caught up in the line of thinking of my former years, while planning for the day I would die. Naturally. And maybe that’s why Dick was my first choice, and you just my second option. But really, I’m still unsure of my exact reasons. I know that’s not fair to you. You deserve better reasoning, because you  _ deserve  _ to be my successor, Cassie. You’ve earned the honor tenfold. But it’s all I can give you right now. I understand your anger at me, and in the future I plan to take your feelings more into consideration and-”

Bruce was shocked into silence when his only daughter’s arms encircled him in a warm embrace. He was so caught off guard that it took him precisely three seconds to hug back. He fixed that quickly, settling into a comfortable hold, even though Cassandra was a good seven inches shorter than him. 

She’d forgiven him for the ultimate slight so easily that he could have cried with relief. Batman could handle a lot of things, but Cassandra upset with him? Perish the thought. 

Cassandra, who had been tricked and betrayed and beaten and hurt over and over again by those who should have protected her, could always find forgiveness in her heart. Even as a child, he had been informed, she would share food she found with other homeless children. Bruce held grudges, he could forgive but his trust took years to gain, even as a child. But not Cassandra. A loving child, she had made herself with no help, but she was a child no longer. A grown woman, eighteen and perfect, his only daughter. 

A child no longer. 

“Huh,” Bruce said aloud.

With only the tiniest nudges of assistance, Cassandra had grown up. She had made herself perfect. Basically on her own. 

“Huh,” Cassandra echoed sarcastically, and Bruce could feel the smile on her face through all his armor. “You are...slow to...figure out.”

“It would seem so,” Bruce replied with a smile, pulling back to pat Cassandra’s head and start walking up the stairs, one arm slung around her shoulders. “That’s why you’ll be a better Batman than me, obviously.”

“ _ Yes, _ ” Cassandra said with a wicked grin. “ _ Batman. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love cass and bruce so much. what a fucking complex and beautiful relationship. 
> 
> also they're both so out of character here but thanks for reading!!


	3. that well-known sadness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A welcome rarity, was what Jason was, these days.

When Bruce thought of his second son, it was always as a five foot nothing fourteen year old who was far too skinny for a growing boy. He pictured the boy with his wild brown curls dashing around the cave, claiming that Batman was _‘way too old to catch me!’_ As the boy who would come home with his grade card and shyly show it, a 4.0 average, pretending it didn’t matter to him, but the pride in his eyes shining through.

If you asked him then, when he was still fairly young himself, what he pictured nineteen year old Jason as, he would not have guessed correctly.

Currently, the most wayward of his children was grunting as Batman stitched up a large gash on his chest. They were still in the field, on a rooftop near Crime Alley. It wasn’t the most secure place to try to help someone who was wounded, but the cut had been deep enough to be bleeding too quickly for Bruce’s liking. He’d demanded Jason stop and cooperate while Bruce got out his mini first aid kit, with much whining and complaining from Jason, who Bruce suspected only complied because he knew he’d catch hell from Alfred if word got out he’d gone back to his apartment injured.

Alfred and Jason had been spending time with each other as of late, going out for brunch together bimonthly (which Bruce wasn’t supposed to know about) to discuss literature, the rest of the family, and unconfirmed but likely, to complain about Bruce.

And of course, Bruce was fine with that. Alfred hadn’t told him, most likely because he thought he _wouldn’t_ approve, but Bruce had also allowed Stephanie and Cassandra to have three sleepovers at Jason’s in the past six months (which he wasn’t supposed to know about); Dick and Damian to patrol with him without informing anyone beforehand  nine different times (which Bruce wasn’t supposed to know about); for Jason, Selina, and Duke to all go shopping with a card she had swiped from Bruce’s wallet (which he actually had been told of by Selina, who took pride in her craft); and for Tim to administer the antidote to Jason once, when the latter was injected with fear toxin, despite the fact Jason had a history of violence with him (that, Bruce had also known about, and tried actively to stop).

So yes, he approved.

Jason had, under his nose, been getting quite close to the newer members of  family. Oddly enough, it seemed that that hadn’t been Jason’s doing - the other children had initiated it themselves.  For years, when Jason was... _not around,_ Bruce had preached to everyone to avoid making the same mistakes, and when the Red Hood had arrived in the city, he’d warned everyone of the danger he posed, since he was aware of most of their secrets. It seemed that no one had listened. Bruce was still calculating whether that was a good thing or not.

Bruce finished the stitches and looked up at Jason. All of his children had developed incredibly high pain tolerances, including Jason, and he had barely a grimace on his face, but he’d lost a fair amount of blood while arguing with Bruce, and his eyes were unfocused. If he stood up, Bruce was concerned, he would fall over. However, Bruce was also aware that Jason would take the offer of assistance as a slight against him.

Jason could be a rather exhausting child.

“Hood,” he finally decided on saying. “Can you stand?”

The vigilante in question snorted and pushed himself to his feet. Almost immediately his knees gave out beneath him and he toppled into Bruce’s waiting arms.

“Oh,” Jason mumbled comically, face pressed into Bruce’s shoulder. “M’lightheaded.”

Bruce, in turn, was frozen. He’d encircled his arms around Jason as soon as he crashed into him automatically - it wasn’t a big deal, what was he going to do, let Jason hit the cement? - but then again, it was paralyzing him. Because his arms were around him. Bruce was hugging Jason for the first time in years.

Jason didn’t seem to be aware of how important this was, or push back to keep the careful distance the two had maintained with each other for months now - the blood loss had affected him more than Bruce had calculated, clearly. But for Bruce, the realization was shattering. The realization that Jason was taller than him. Leaning, Jason was almost exactly his height. It was ridiculous he hadn’t noticed before -- Bruce had been aware of his ‘growth spurt’ for years now, must have known, subconsciously, but it had never really sunk in.

Jason was 6’2”. Over a foot taller than he was as Robin.

“Huh,” Bruce said.

A soft chuckle emitted from Jason, who seemed rather content on Bruce’s armored shoulder, and he asked, “‘Huh?’” in a mocking tone. “Lost a lot of blood, B, s’it’s not _that_ weird to be dizzy.”

It was laughable, how much that shook Bruce Wayne, _Batman,_ that a nineteen year old was half an inch taller than him, but there he was, a slight tremble running through his body.

He had grown. Their last hug (Bruce couldn’t recall the exact date, but had estimated it to be in between March 20-29 of 2014) had ended in Bruce picking up his son and slinging him over a shoulder, both laughing in the kind of slap-happiness that three a.m. invited into people. Such a feat would be impossible now, he knew. From the way that Jason was leaning nearly his full weight against him, he approximated him to weigh between 190-205, most of it muscle,  which was just shy of Bruce himself.

It probably should have concerned him that if Red Hood was ever grievously injured, there’d be no single person in the family to carry him back to the cave alone, but instead there was Bruce, thoughts consumed with that fact that he couldn’t lift his son for fun anymore.

“Br’ss,” Jason said after a while, still sounding rather lightheaded.. “Are we goin’ back to the Manor?”

Expertly, Bruce turned to the side without shifting Jason and slung one of his son’s arms around his shoulders. Bruce wrapped one of his arms around Jason’s hips to stabilize him and started towards the car. “If that’s okay with you.”

Maybe it was the blood loss, but Jason said “Sure” and, once in the car, made no argument and seemed fine with humming as they zoomed home. 

After five minutes, Jason said, "S'been awhile since I've been in here, huh?"

"Yes," Bruce agreed, pretending Jason wasn't pulling on his heartstrings. "Four years."

"Mm. Love this car."

"I know you do. I'm pretty sure only Stephanie loves it more."

"Heh. Or Tim," he added, running a finger over the control panel. Bruce hated himself for the way he tensed, worried Hood might try to eject him. Try as he might, he was still overtly cautious around Jason, which he knew, just knew, that the younger was acutely aware of. Even suffering from blood loss, Jason's eyes caught the minuscule tensing of Bruce's shoulders and slumped back, defeated. 

Bruce didn't know what to do. So he just drove, feeling useless. 

Jason's fingers tapped on his knee absentmindedly, reminding Bruce of his predecessor. "W're the lights on the, uh, on the controls, were they always red? I don't 'member them being red."

It took a moment for Bruce to remember that Jason Peter Todd was the second worst person in the world at small talk, right after Bruce himself, the reigning champ. It brought a smile to his face, a small one. The more things change the more they stay the same, indeed. 

"No, before they only light up white. When Dick took over for me-"  _Tread carefully here,_ Bruce reminded himself, very aware of how difficult that period of time had gone for everyone, including Jason, who'd ended up in Arkham by the end of it. "-he changed it. I've no idea why."

"Hm," Jason replied, unaware of Bruce's neuroses. "Maybe the kid? Maybe Damian likes red."

Bruce nodded, suddenly and painfully aware that he didn't actually know his own biological son's favorite color. He was sure Dick would know. "Maybe."

"Red's m'favorite," Jason added as an afterthought, staring out the blackout windows, apparently just as uncomfortable as Bruce felt. 

Bruce stiffened at that. No -- Bruce Wayne had a carefully cataloged list of facts on his Jason, facts he had committed to memory because for years he was afraid he would forget with no Jason there to keep reminding him. Jason Todd liked neapolitan ice cream, cars, Roy Harper's eyes (this was top secret, only mentioned in passing while Jason was being sedated once after a disastrous Teen Titans mission, _shh_ ), being Robin, Jane Austen, and the color  _green._ Bruce knew this because Bruce loved his son and his son had very rarely ever been given a gift in his youth and Bruce had personally seen to it that Jason's favorite color was featured in the majority of his clothing, because Bruce wanted his child to be happy. 

"Green," Bruce said in a neutral voice, half a question, half a correction. 

"Nah," Jason said casually, but he was picking at his sleeves now. "Grew outta that."

 _What a fitting choice of words,_ Bruce thought, amused, but then his consciousness was filled with curiosity. Unfortunately that led to the quick realization that it was either from Joker's electric green locks, or from the haunting, neon green of the Lazarus Pit that changed Jason's mind, and then it wasn't so funny anymore. 

It was quiet in the car. 

"Black," Bruce said, then cleared his throat. Jason looked at him, one eyebrow quirked. "I like monochrome colors. Black, white, gray. I like dark gray quite a bit."

Jason smiled at the floor of the car. "I think the cat's outta the bag on that secret, B."

And then they were both smiling at each other for the first time in an eternity. A welcome rarity. 

A welcome rarity was what  Jason was, these days. He’d assist in both small and large-scale Arkham breakouts, patrol with one of the kids once or twice a week, stop in to the cave for the weekly, mandatory, overall status reports perhaps once a month. But everytime he showed up, he was sure to bring smiles to at the very least, Stephanie, Dick, and Duke, and sometimes, Tim and Damian. Cass was a bit of a mixed bag, as she would immediate confiscate his weaponry the second he entered the cave, but she always flashed him a grin as she did it, and had on more than one occasion invited him to her and Stephanie’s sacred tradition of rooftop tag.

Even when he was younger, Jason was a hit with kids. Robin could always be trusted to ease a young victims fears at a crime scene, and Jason Wayne easily amused bored aristocrat children at galas, though whenever he had returned from a rough day at school he’d proclaim them “aristobrats” and bemoaned that they’d all grow up to be terrible people. Bruce would muss his hair and smile as Alfred admonished them both. After months of building trust painstakingly, Jason had even confessed to having babysat his mother’s friend’s kids on a few occasions back in Crime Alley, but, as cute as Bruce initially found it, his concern over why a ten year old was watching the children instead of their parents had kept him from smiling over it.

They arrived at the cave shortly and Bruce helped Jason out of the car. Alfred appeared out of seemingly nowhere with a tray of tea. “Master Jason,” he greeted with everpresent politeness, but his mustache gave away his joy with a twitch. “I trust you’ll be spending the night here?”

“Heya Alfie,” Jason greeted brightly, as Bruce manhandled him. “Yeah, I guess.”

The three walked (stumbled, in one of their cases) past the memorial case in silence, but even as Bruce mourned the child he loved, he was overjoyed at the presence of the man he quietly couldn’t wait to get to know and love (again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i feel like this is....kinda shitty? i originally was planning to have more in this story than i ended up with, because i quickly remembered that i have a very evident bias for jason and i shouldn't make his chapter too much longer than the others...so there's a lot of dropped subplots going on here. idk. enjoy! 
> 
> stephanie is next (stfu she's basically one of b's kids at this point), then tim's, duke's, and damian's. I'm trying to go by ages here, and the only one im not sure of is if duke is older than tim, bc some comics say he's 16 and some say he's 17, so let's pretend he's younger.


End file.
